I hate to admit it, but I smoked cigarettes for thirteen years before finally quitting cold turkey about three and a half years ago.
I don’t half-ass things.
When I decide to do something, I go all in.
If I decide I want to quit smoking, I just do it. If I decide I want to write a book in a month, I just do it.
Twenty-three days ago, I decided I wanted to write a poem every day – not every day for a month, not every day for a year – just, every day.
I want to write a poem every day, because writer’s write, and I fancied myself a poet before anything else I ever aspired to be, so I’m here now, thirty fucking five, and doing it.
There’s a power in deciding to do something and following through with it.
I have lists of things to write every day:
- 1,000 words
- WordPress post
- Medium article
- poem a day
and as I am crossing these things off my list, I’m doing even more than I’m asking of myself, because I want to.
Because I love writing.
I’ve been prolific lately, and now all I want is to stay prolific, to keep creating at this pace until what I love becomes what I am becomes what I do.
You know what I mean?
